


Rather the Fallen Angel

by Slipperyl3oy (Gandalfgirl579)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Blood Drinking, Character Death, Death, F/M, Gothic, Horror, M/M, Murder, Polyamory, Romance, Tragic Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-10-25 18:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17730515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gandalfgirl579/pseuds/Slipperyl3oy
Summary: "Do you still love me?" Had he been human, Julian's eyes would have been brimming with tears. He had long since learned, though, that vampires could not cry. "Do you still love me, despite my being a monster?"A historical vampire AU revolving around Julian, Lucio and the apprentice. Ranges from 1799 to the present. Be aware of the tags, and all the horrors that come with such an AU.





	1. Chapter 1

_**London, 1799** _

"I'd like to watch the sunset with you."

It was a ridiculously romantic notion, but Julian smiled all the same. "We've only just gotten engaged, my dear." There was laughter in his voice, barely audible over the music of the guilded orchestra occupying the farthest corner of the ballroom. "It's hardly proper for us to be alone together."

Errol gave him a mischievous smile. They had only known each other for a few weeks, but he had grown fond of that look. "A warning, Dr. Devorak," she said, pulling him by the hand out into the corridor, the sound of music and chattering and laughter fading as the massive doors closed behind them. "I may be a woman, but I'm not much of a lady."

"So I've heard." Julian lifted Errol's hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. The silk of her glove was warm against his lips. He desperately wished it was her skin and not fabric, but he didn't dare say so, though he knew she would appreciate boldness. When he pulled back, he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Errol accepted, of course, but their move to the stairwell was stopped when another couple stepped around the corner, beautiful and shining, and Julian spared a glance down at Errol when her grip on his arm tightened. 

"Do you know them?" he asked as the new couple stepped closer, the man's eyes on Errol, smug and hungry. Julian felt a familiar protective urge come over him. Errol could handle herself, he was sure, but she _was his_. He would always save her, even if only from another man and his wandering eyes. "Who are they?"

Errol didn't answer, her attention on the new arrivals, and as they finally came face-to-face, she gritted out a chilly, "Earl Morgasson."

The Earl's smile was wicked. "Have you forgotten my name, Miss E?" His voice was rough with canon smoke, his voice accented not with any English inflection, but something more German. He was as foreign as Julian was.

"Lucio," Errol said, coldly polite, "this is my fiancé, Dr. Julian Devorak. Julian, this is Earl Lucio Morgasson."

Though Julian held out his hand for a shake, he was ignored, Lucio instead taking Errol's hand in his, saying, "Dance with me." When she pulled away, holding onto Julian's arm with both hands, Lucio tipped his head to one side, asking, "You aren't still cross with me, are you?"

"You chose _her money_ \--" Errol jerked her chin toward the woman on Lucio's arm-- " _over me_. Of course I am." She shot a glare at Lucio's companion. She was his wife, Julian realized when he spotted the ring on her finger. To both of them, Errol said, her voice colder than Julian had ever heard it, "Enjoy the party."

As Julian let Errol lead him away down the hall, though her eyes stayed on Lucio over her shoulder, he asked, "Who were those two?"

"Just an old flame and his whore." Errol sighed, resting her temple against the curve of his bicep. As tiny as she was, she had no hope of reaching his shoulder. "I don't know how they would even know about this party. No one would dream of inviting them. They're not--"

"I'm sorry our being here has upset you."

Though Julian turned toward the source of the voice, Errol sighed, letting her eyes slip closed. 

"My husband is... Tactless." She looked almost ashamed of him, Julian thought. Perhaps he really had only married her for her money. He hoped he would be a better match for Errol than Lucio was for the Countess. "And if he catches wind of a party nearby, he considers himself obligated to attend."

Though her nails pressed into Julian's arm through her gloves and his suit sleeve, Errol turned and said, sounding sincere, "You don't need to apologize for him."

The Countess gave a gracious nod, then looked to Julian. "Would you give us the room, please?"

"We were just going to get some air, actually," Errol said, giving Julian's arm a squeeze before she released him. She was tense, he could tell, unwilling to go, but shoving her discomfort aside in favor of politeness. She was more ladylike than she seemed to realize. "Would you like to see the sunset with me? There's a lovely view from the portico."

As she stepped away, Julian touched her hand for just the barest second, softly saying, "Go easy on her."

Errol gave him a wicked smile for that, replying, "Do I ever go easy on anyone?"

Shaking his head and smiling as Errol and the Countess vanished arm-in-arm around the corner, Julian was soon accosted by the Earl, who gave him a devilish smile and wasted no time in asking, "And what makes you think you're good enough for her?"

Julian's breath stuck in his throat for a moment, a little lump of nervousness growing until he cleared his throat and swallowed it down. He knew a challenge when he heard one. "It doesn't matter if I think I'm good enough, nor what you think. It was arranged, and not by me."

Lucio laughed in his face. He wasn't surprised by it. "Are you implying that Arjun Pyralis believes some charlatan doctor from parts unknown is good enough to marry his youngest daughter?" Lucio flashed his teeth. "Don't think I failed to notice that accent. Russian, I suppose?"

"Ukrainian, actually." Julian met the Earl's eyes in a challenge of his own, charcoal gray on icy white. Lucio's eyes, he noted, had no real color to them. Unusual. "And I'm no charlatan."

"Is that so?" Though Lucio was a fair bit shorter than Julian, there was something thoroughly intimidating about him. Perhaps, Julian thought, it was the false arm, all glittering gold and razor claws. Had he been a soldier? "From what I've heard--"

The Earl's voice was cut off by a woman's scream. Julian didn't recognize the voice, but he did recognize its owner when she stumbled into the room, clutching at her stomach and covered in blood and deep, wet gashes, up and down her arms, her neck, her stomach, crimson soaking into the fine gold silk of her gown.

"Nadia!" Lucio was at his wife's side in an instant.

Julian followed, but when he moved to pass them, Nadia threw her arm out in front of him, saying, soft and desperate, "Don't." When Julian opened his mouth to argue, she said, "You don't want to see this."

He was quick to shrug her off and move around the corner-- And instantly regretted it.

The stairway leading up to the portico was drenched in blood, and from this angle, he could see a single hand, scarred and familiar, elegantly draped over a stair, attached to nothing. 

Errol's engagement ring glittered against a torn silk glove.

They were to be married in the spring.

 _Spring_ , Julian thought, _would never come again._


	2. Chapter 2

"I heard it was some sort of animal." Tanis Pyralis was only half as brazen as Errol had been, but _this_ , gossiping at her own sister's funeral... 

Julian couldn't bring himself to look at her, his hands fisting at his sides, his gloves squeaking in protest. He had been hearing the gossip ever since the night of the attack, of course, but it hadn't gotten any easier, and to hear it from Errol's own family was a slap in the face he hadn't been prepared for. The alcohol burning in his veins didn't make it any easier, either. He wasn't sure he could handle being here, but he did his best to bear it. Errol deserved that much.

"But what sort of animal could have climbed all the way up onto the portico?" Sonietta had, at least, the tact to hide her mouth behind her fan. "It had to have been a person. Do you suppose the Countess...?"

"She's _a lady_ , Sonietta! She's not capable of such a thing!" When their mother shot her a warning look, Tanis cleared her throat. More softly, she said, hiding her mouth behind her gloved hand, "And I hear the she's pregnant with the Earl's child!"

"So soon? They haven't even married yet!"

"It's a shame he decided to accept her offer," Tanis said, pointedly not looking at Julian, "or dear Errol would still be here."

"And he didn't even have the decency to be present for her funeral!" Sonietta shook her head.

" _That's enough_." It wasn't one of their parents speaking, but Kabir, their elder brother, who shooed them away and came to stand at Julian's side before the fireplace, though he said nothing to him. Instead of speaking, Kabir clapped a hand on Julian's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

Julian gave him a tight smile. "I'm sorry." It wasn't enough, he knew.

"It wasn't your fault." It sounded like Kabir didn't quite believe it. 

Julian shook his head. "I'm a doctor, Kabir. If I _had been there_ , I could have saved her."

"She was torn to pieces." There was a tremble in Kabir's voice that Julian had never heard before. He wasn't surprised. Errol had been more than Kabir's sister, she had been his best friend. Julian knew for a fact that Kabir was taking her death as hard as he was, if not harder. "There was nothing anyone could have done for her."

 _She_ , Julian thought. _Her_. Kabir hadn't used his sister's name since the attack. Julian couldn't blame him. It was hard just to think about her. It was agony to think of the state in which Julian had last seen her. It was _excruciating_ to think he would never see her again. He swallowed the pain down to accept a handshake and a forced smile from Kabir before he stepped away. 

It seemed the entirety of the Pyralis family had come to see their lost girl off, and Julian wove through them as best he could, finding his way into the parlor, where her corpse had been laid out in its pretty coffin, all hammered shut so no one could steal a peek at her mangled body. 

No one would dare even without the nails, though, as Arjun Pyralis sat on the nearby chaise, elbows on his knees, hands joined in silent prayer. He looked up when Julian approached. His eyes, the same fiery amber as his daughter's had been, were puffy and rimmed in red and sunken into sleep shadows. He said, "Doctor."

Julian said, "Mr. Pyralis." He knelt before the coffin, pressing his hand to the lid. To its occupant, he whispered, " _I'm so sorry_."

"You should be."

Julian tensed. It wasn't Errol's voice, as he had expected, but Arjun's. "You were her fiancé. You were supposed to protect her." Arjun's eyes were sharper than Julian had ever seen them, yet he didn't flinch away. It was true. He deserved this. "You were supposed to protect her, _and now she's dead_."

"I'm sorry," was all Julian could bring himself to say. He meant it. He had never been sorrier for anything in all his life. "I'm sorry, Arjun, I never wanted--"

" _Leave_."

Julian bit his lip. His eyes were wet. His head was swimming, and from more than just grief.

"Leave, Dr. Devorak." It was a command, and Julian had no intention of going against it. "You're no longer welcome here. I don't want to see you at the funeral, and I don't want to see you here again."

Julian didn't argue. He nodded, stood and saw himself out. 

He had never been so grateful for the flask in his coat pocket. When he stopped for a drink around the side of the manor, though, he found it was already empty.

He'd have to stop at the pub instead.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're going out again?" Portia sounded more disappointed than angry, her ginger brows drawn together. "You've only just gotten home, Ilya, and you have patients to see in the morning."

"I won't be long." It was a lie. Julian couldn't even look her in the eye, turning away from her to slide his coat on. His head was still swimming. The nap he had taken after drinking himself stupid after the funeral had done little good. It took all he had to keep himself from swaying against the wall.

Sighing, Portia set aside the book she had been reading and stood. "Where're you going?" Stepping closer, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. It burned like a brand, but he didn't shrug hero off. He deserved the pain. "Back to the pub?"

"To the graveyard."

There was a beat of silence before Portia's grip on his shoulder weakened. Softly, she asked, "Are you allowed to go? Didn't you say her father wouldn't allow you?"

At last, Julian turned his eyes on Portia, a half-hearted semi-sly grin on his lips. "Why do you think I'm going this late?" Despite his best effort, he still sounded astoundingly melancholic. 

Portia was, of course, unconvinced. Gently, she turned him to face her, smoothing down his lapels and doing up the brass buttons of his coat. "Try not to let anyone see you, yeah?" She glanced up to snag his eyes with hers, blue on silver. "I'd rather you didn't give the bobbies reason to beat you again."

"I don't plan on seeing them." That, at least, was true. "I only plan on seeing her."

Though Portia bit her lip, she stepped back and let him pass.

Pressing a quick kiss to Portia's temple, Julian stepped out of the house and onto the little cobblestoned road outside. There were still a few carriages about on the darkened streets, still raucous laughter coming from the nearby pub, still the soft chatter of warehouse workers on their way home from their shifts. He envied the normalcy of them. 

Putting the thought of them out of his mind, Julian paced his way down the street, past the other houses, past the pubs and the bakeries and the shops, to the little cemetery at the end of the lane. 

At its rusted iron gate, he found the Earl. He was watching the graveyard with his sharp, colorless eyes, his lip held tight between his teeth, his carefully applied brows drawn together. His hands, gloved in exquisite leather, gripped the bars of the gate for dear life. He looked distraught, though he had no right to.

Unable to keep the animosity out of his voice, Julian approached him, asking, "What are you doing here?"

The Earl didn't spare him so much as a glance. "I loved her too, I'll have you know."

Julian felt a bit of the anger burning in him wither. Doing his best to hold onto it, he said, "Your wife--"

" _She knows_. Nadia is a marriage of convenience."

"Why would you choose her over Errol?" Julian couldn't understand it. Honestly, he had no desire to understand it. "For money? For status?"

"I shouldn't have." The Earl's gloves squeaked in protest as he gripped the bars harder. "Had I chosen Errol, she would still be alive." Casting a last look into the graveyard, he nodded a goodbye to Julian and turned on his heel, his cape fluttering in a chilly breeze as he strode away down the lane.

Julian glared at his back for a moment before he stepped through the gate and into the yellowed grass of the cemetery, tromping his way through the dark to where he had seen the mourners gathered earlier in the day. He had only seen them from a distance, of course, through the leaded front window of the Rowdy Raven, but her grave should have been around here. All he found was empty ones.

When he knelt closer, though, in the moonlight, he found it.

The mortsafe was in shambles, the ground freshly turned and piled off to the edges of the grave itself. 

Though there was dread settling in the pit of his stomach, Julian pulled the silver flask from the pocket of his coat, taking a long swig from it before stowing it away again and leaning gingerly over the mouth of the grave. 

To his relief, the coffin was still there, a single white rose resting atop it. 

He was still half-drunk now, and so he was was absolutely certain he was imagining the fact that the nails were all missing.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're a mess." The cabbie sounded less than concerned, his pretty violet eyes on Julian's face, his head tipped in curiosity. They didn't know each other, really, but he saw Julian often enough to recognize something so obvious. "Have you slept?"

"Not a wink." Julian swiped a gloved hand over his eyes, his appointment book tucked beneath his arm, one foot up on the steps leading into the familiar carriage. "I don't imagine I will for a very long time."

The cabbie made a noncommittal sound, keeping his eyes on Julian as he climbed up into the back of the carriage and called out directions to his destination.

Though Portia had managed to clear most of his schedule, Mazelinka had been less than willing to put her appointment off, and Julian was dreading seeing her today. She wasn't going to just let him mope, he was sure. The sound of the horse's hooves on the cobblestones was grating, and he reached into the pocket of his overcoat to grab for his flask. He'd already drained it twice today, and it was barely after lunch. He didn't care enough to be ashamed of himself, though he was incredibly disappointed to find it empty. 

Outside the carriage, the world was bright and alive, the city bustling despite the autumn chill in the air and the gold and red and orange leaves littering the streets. Julian found he didn't care much about that, either.

The only thing on his mind was _her_ , so much so that he barely heard the cabbie announce that they had arrived at Mazelinka's tiny flat in Whitechapel.

Sighing, Julian opened the carriage door, stepping out onto the cracked cobblestone of the street. In this area, there was less care for maintenance. Only Mazelinka could bring him back here, considering how hard he had struggled to get himself and Portia out. Passing a few coins up to the cabbie, he headed inside, not bothering to knock. "Maz?" he called.

"In the kitchen!"

Sliding off his coat and hanging it over the rickety rack, then depositing his appointment book on the little table at the edge of the foyer, Julian strode into the kitchen.

Though the space was small and dingy, it smelled heavenly, two sizable copper pots bubbling away in the fireplace, Mazelinka herself standing at the butcher block counter, chopping vegetables and watching him with her keen eyes. "Ilya," she said.

"Mazelinka," he said back.

"Come chop with me." She slid a knife over the counter. 

Though Julian did as he was told, rolling up his sleeves and taking a knife in hand to slice through a number of carrots, he was quick to ask, "What was it you needed, Maz? Your timing is less than ideal."

"So I've heard." She didn't look up. "But I'm not about to cancel an appointment, particularly when you so need it."

Julian couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. "When _I_ so need it?"

"I've known you most of your life, Ilya." Mazelinka set her knife aside, scooping up the potatoes she had been carving up and halving them between the two pots hung above the fireplace. The second pot, he knew, was for him to take home to Portia. "I know you well enough to know that you're blaming yourself for what happened to that girl."

" _That girl_?" He was at once offended and extremely grateful that she hadn't spoken her name.

"The Pyralis girl." Sidling up to the counter again, Mazelinka began chopping her way through a rather large pile of mushrooms. "I'm aware your engagement was arranged, but you tend to become attached far too easily for your own good."

He couldn't deny it, and so Julian remained silent, doing his best not to cut himself as he sliced up the carrots.

Stopping her cutting to rub at her knuckles, for a bad case of rheumatism was the true cause of her appointments, Mazelinka asked, "Did you love her?"

"With all my heart." Julian didn't even have to think about it.

Mazelnika didn't need to think of her reply, either: "Then know that she would want you to go on."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began as an Interview with the Vampire AU, but I wouldn't say it's quite that anymore. There are still some elements of it in the plot, but it's become its own beast now, and I'm super excited to share it!
> 
> The title comes from a Frankenstein quote: "I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel."
> 
> As always, I must mention that I go by [3rrol](http://3rrol.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr, and I'm totally open to taking questions and comments and requests and prompts there! :) Hit me up!


End file.
